


Pretty

by PlumpPeachPrincess



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Brahms is a creepy wall watcher, F/F, Other, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumpPeachPrincess/pseuds/PlumpPeachPrincess
Summary: Brahms wants to be taken care of instead of the doll, and you're being paid handsomely so you don't mind. But, he's been watching you for so long.You're his anyway, why can't he play?





	Pretty

It was all too good to be true. You had always had a thing for children, taking care of them and watching them grow up. You’d been a baby sitter as a teenager and had preferred the company of them. Their sweet smiles, odd questions, their brains working a mile a minute. So, the offer to become a nanny for a little boy and live full time in their mansion had been a no brainer, you had quickly gone to the job offer and had come from America to escape your last life.

Then, they accepted you! Just..ah…they were using a doll as their son. You assumed it was due to grief, so you were very kind about it. Shaking the doll’s hand and smiling at it, telling the doll that you would be the best nanny you could be. The porcelain doll was a tad creepy with its unblinking eyes, but you had enough empathy in you to follow it from schedule to schedule. Playing music for him, reading poetry to him, fixing his hair and carrying him about. It became…natural, almost.

Almost.

“Be good to him and he’ll be good to you.”

The noises in the walls, they were louder each day. You had experimented in your own way, setting out peanut butter and jelly and watching it disappear with no trace after 15 minutes of being out of the room. It had never occurred to you that perhaps…perhaps something- or rather, someone, was watching you. Not at first.

You believed in ghosts, spirits even. S, when noises began, you at first thought rats had gotten past the traps. The soft scratching heard near your walls at night. But, then began the attic door opening, the stairs being down. 

Then came the voice, like a child. Asking if you wanted to play. It at first had startled you, but you would say yes. Leave out a toy and ask him to hide it- like hide and seek with a ghost. It took you sometimes hours to find the toy you offered out, but it always. Always had moved somewhere new, never where you last put it. It was tremendously exciting, and sad to think that a child was lost.

And then. You saw him.

It had been in the halls one day, you thought him to be an intruder. But then he had turned to you, porcelain mask set upon his face. In a warm cardigan, chest hair peeking out and your breath had caught in your throat.

“Brahms?”

Since then, it has occurred to you that you were not alone in the house. Nor were the parents coming back to help you with Brahms. You were certain they had left you, alone. And that didn’t scare you, now that you knew that someone was here.

He didn’t like coming out during the day, so you set out sandwiches and would yell for him on where it was. Only to come back to an empty plate and would scold him for not returning the silverware. Which would then pop up somewhere on the floor or on the banister and you’d thank the walls. Malcom thought you were crazy, you were sure. He came over once a week with groceries and would ask how you’d been, polite as ever.

Your routine was easy and simple, you two found a groove, and sometimes he came to you at night. Would shyly nudge at your blankets until you pulled back the covers and would spoon the boy as he made happy noises in his throat. Sometimes he turned around and would hug you close to him, bury his face in your chest as the coldness of his mask made you squeal sometimes in reply.

But today you felt needy. You knew Brahms was probably napping or hiding somewhere in the walls, as it was about the evening time and you already made dinner for the both of you. So, you climbed into bed, trying to roll around and relax. But in the end…

“Ah!” Your soft cry is muffled by your hand. You’re naked, clothes shredded off in your hurry. A blanket tossed over your right leg from you kicking it off. Your nipples peaked from arousal, breasts bouncing with your body as you toss and turn. Fingers curled inside of you, rutting against your palm to massage your clit. You practically sob, it’d been so long since you had given yourself. Well. Anything. And with Brahms’ scent on your brain, the way his arms felt around you, you were at a loss. Sobbing out in pleasure before you feel your wrists seized.

They go above your head and you cry out, eyes flying open and arms above your head. Body exposed as your chest heaves with your panting. Looking up into the porcelain mask and finding his eyes as you both meet each other’s. “Brahms-” You choke out, squirming, trying to shut your legs but he’s between them. Slotted between them, and he’s hard. You can feel it through his comfy pants he always wore. You swallow thickly, his head tilted and you know his brain is working.

Then he leans down, pressing those cold, porcelain lips to yours in a kiss. It hurts, it presses your gums to your teeth. But you arch into it. Pressing back before pulling back softly. “Brahms, mask up.” You speak softly, and he seems torn for just a moment. But you press your hips up and whine and that seems to make him relent. One hand keeping your arms above your head, the other grabbing for his mask. Tilting it up just high enough to show his lips and thick beard, lips parted which press to yours much softer than they’d felt before, but just as crushing.

His lips move from yours, kissing down your cheek and scraping his teeth over you until-

“Hngh!” You cry out as his teeth sink into you. Fingers curling into his shaggy locks and thrusting your body upwards into his, feeling him push down in reply and hold you still. His breathing is heavy, letting your neck go and using his free hand to catch onto his pants. Tugging them down swiftly until his cock lies heavily over your sex. Pulsing, throbbing, needing any attention.

He presses down with his hand over his cock. Sliding over your clit, through slick folds. The shiny, bulbous head easily slipping downwards until it nudges on the rim of your pussy. You sob out gently, turning your head and jerking your wrists, but he sheathes inside of you quickly. Like a starving man. Shiny and wet from your lubrication as he thrusts into you fully. Your toes curling as thick hair from his mound brushes over your clit before the mound presses flush to yours. Body heat seeping into you as his clothed chest presses tightly to yours.

“Pretty,” He sounds out, his voice breathy and deep. His natural voice, not the facade he put on of a sweet little boy.

You’re tossing and turning, hips trying desperately to keep up with him. Hips pumping upwards as he thrusts harshly into you. It doesn’t take either of you long before you’re the first to cum, having been toying with yourself for awhile, and he must have been watching. Because as you constrict around him, pulsing as your orgasm hums through you and you sob out in pleasure, he’s done for. Thrusting harshly into you with a grunt and cumming inside of you without asking. But you hardly mind. Especially when he’s panting above you, chest glistening with sweat and you none the better. His cock, still hard, pulsing inside of you before he’s catching your wrists once again and pumping his hips.

You’re in for a long night.


End file.
